The first night he snuck into her room she knew what he wanted. She no doubt believed in the sincerity of his love for her. She had long ago given up on a man expressing his love by any means other than sex. Because she'd taken so much care to notice that his attempts to prove his love for her were in fact genuine, she would indeed permit his desires for her to manifest themselves in physical form to be successful. She would allow herself to simply tolerate his lack of understanding for her hearts now deep but still truest thirst to go unquenched. Maybe in another life-time, generation, or at least to another soul a man's awareness to the needs of a woman and attempts to meet them would vindicate her desires. Then again maybe only in the movies.

That first night she thought she knew what he wanted, but she was wrong. The first night he snuck into her room he knew she was fragile, her pain intensified by the exploits around her. He wanted to show her the kind of love she consciously denied existed, but somewhere deep in her heart was fully aware of it's sacredness. She had attempted to kill herself physically until she realized that emotionally she was already dead. Her precious love and happiness as a little girl were stinted by the exposure to a cold and unforgiving society that sought to punish those with such fantasized expectations with the same dose of harsh so-called "reality" that caused their own malevolence at sometime or another.

She carried with her the disposition of one who wouldn't look in the eye of someone who was not worthy. Yet far from a person of royalty with the resources and backing to be able to get away with this and in an American society where eye-contact was essential she became liberal with her glimpses even to the nastiest and foul of people. She did not see this as a concession or submission because she still had possession over things that no one would take the time to notice and even if they did wouldn't be able to decipher the labyrinth of emotion and thoughts within her eyes. ,which were like a deep blue sea that direct emotional stimuli like sunlight could abandon attempts to penetrate and only hope to influence the depths.

The first night he lay situated next to her. Then as a subtle expression by her to show him that the affection was mutual, she rested her head on his chest. He never gave in to his physical desires that night. His hesitations to make love to her were because he didn't want his pathetic advances to reaffirm her assumptions about the ultimate goal of men which was to have an orgasm: no that would only undermine what he was true trying to convey: true love.

He knew the world had been a vacuum to her, stifling all that was beautiful about her and left her overcome with an empty void.

Had he attempted to ravish her body, she wouldn't have told him to stop. What she had seen of him was sufficient for sex. She thought of him as sugar in a world where the commodity was indeed rare.

Neither of the two engaged the other at first. They both just lay for awhile, each satisfied with the other's company. He initiated the first touch which made her more comfortable because something had to happen lest awkward moments were inevitable. He placed his hand on the back of her body, gently rubbing it in smooth and flattering motions which reminded her of waves. Next he could feel her soft hands go under his shirt, grazing about his chest. She then felt the vibrations of a peaceful heart-beat come to a violent roar and his breathing became uneasy and fierce. This insight into her own affect on him gave her stomach butterflies. Both entered a state of relaxation which numbed their pain yet exalted their senses.

The second night he visited her he came bearing chocolates, fruits, and champagne. She greeted him wearing a light blue night-dress moving like a cherub and feeling completely impassioned, a feeling that wouldn't outlast the evening. He did sense a reversal in the passivity in which she had exerted the previous night, but his keen sensitivity when aroused under usual circumstances, almost impeccably, foreshadowed conflicts, was seceded whenever in her presence. Besides, this, had it been regarded, would have been a frivolous foot-step on the long path of romance, and more importantly her perfume smelled so fuckin' good.

It became evident that she wasn't trying to keep her change in behavior secret after all. For after the initial I'm happy to see you again and Da las gracias para los regalos, came in the tactics of a woman a reason she was letting her negative feelings become apparent in the first place. She wanted him to ask her, "What's wrong?” So that she might be able to get it off her chest, that she wasn't comfortable with the whole courting manifestation, that it made her uneasy to see a guy display so much interest in her, that quite frankly she was scared. And of course not in those words which would have embarrassed her and made her feel more vulnerable than she already did. But never-the-less, in order to attain that question from him she needed to do something. So after he told her a joke she tried to convey disinterest and melancholy by rolling her eyes at him and the passing him a ruthlessly cold look which in turn according to her experience would inject a similar feeling in him and attempt to raze his confidence. How would this single-minded creature react to that she thought? She wanted in return a look of hostility or defensiveness in order to vindicate her suspicions and when actually confronted false intentions simply crumble, any look except for the one she got, which was innocuous sincerity.

What am I going to have to do in order to expose this man she wondered. Of course, there was a conflict of perspectives going on inside of her at that very moment. On the one hand her instincts were telling her to "go for it" and allow herself to love and be loved. On the other was her experience reminding her that everything she had ever known up to this point would say to, "back off". If feeling vulnerable had ever taught her anything it was that people will exploit it.

And so while he was entertaining her with a story, arose in her the question, to love, or not to love? It began to occur to her that when one decides to choose the former of the question, they will reach the point of vulnerability where risk is inevitable. This can means only two things, the ecstasy of the purest form of humanity: true love, or the complete devastation of all the defenses which was the only constant in your life up until then. It's a gamble that offers the possibility of everything that is great about humanity or the definite delivery of everything that which exposes the true fragility of human existence. There's no such thing as taking your pride with you when you enter this situation, you have to go in unarmed. Either leap and make it or fall into the snake-pit, there is no bridge that's offered. Everything including the pain and suffering that is guaranteed by nature and things that are only a rare possibility like achieving your potential, good or bad, are only superseded by a pristine form of harmony which according to the law of nature shouldn't even exist on this Earth.

Almost as if snuck away from the Heavens above, as an offering to all of humanity, yet only claimed by a few gallant and unhesitating people.

In response to all these contrasting revelations, fear was victorious temporarily in this struggle, it has won the battle, but the war during this endeavor wouldn't be as easy to overcome, and her ally would come from an unexpected source.

By now he was done with his story, she hasn't heard a word he has spoken. She chose this as the opportunity to perform her cop-out and pretending as if something he said had upset her, she asked him, "to leave immediately." He sat stoically and in a testament to his sincerity didn’t seem to be confused by her request but tried to understand her motives. He spoke in a calm voice, "What's wrong?".

"You’re what is wrong!" she responded sharply. Immediately regretting every hostile opposition she directed towards him. She'd passed off that she put herself in this position and hoped he had mistaken her for a nut, one incapable of being loved, or a disinterested stranger, anything so he just goes away and she can forget she was ever teased with the idea of love and happiness.

While he was trying to neutralize her ill-will by reassuring her instincts, she interrupted him with a large thrust of emotion in her tone screaming, "Get out!"

Knowing he now had no choice but to appease her he began for the door, saying with his back to her, “You don't understand, I really care a lot about you." When he had reached the exit he spun around in order to face her attempting to look some sense into her, the two just gazed at each other for some moments. He didn't want it to end like this. She saw his glance pierce through her defenses, not in a violent forceful way but in a gentle and soft sort of manner. She thought how dare he know things about me that only I know, that I swore never to reveal. I'm so vulnerable, but isn't that what love is, taking a risk? She was confronted with the thought that this may be my last one shot at love, the potential of being heart broken is 99% but the reward is worth it.

He still stood there. She ran to him crying, he embraced her uttering a soft, "shhh" in her ear, and she punched and clawed at his chest and felt sorry for him, she really loved him, if a little before ten especially now. She strikes him for three reasons: one, bitterness over the past, two angry she is vulnerable, and three, angry she allowed herself to get this deep. If anything he feels the sense of obligation and urgency to comfort her.

The microscopic valleys and canyons made under her eyes from incessant childhood tears which had long been dried up and replaced by impervious eyes and an impassive facial expression were flooded once again.

The two of them went on like that for a while, coming to terms with the pain from the past almost thwarting their attempts at present love until they were worn out by the flood of emotion and fell asleep in each other's arms.

He came in on the third night bearing a white rose with a card attached to it. While processing the scent of the blossom she gave him a smile full of affection and then asked him to lie down. He obliged and they finally found themselves situated in more intimate circumstances. The length of his back resting comfortably on the bed, while she sat straddling him, twirling the rose and making her way inside of the envelope. He savored all the flowing motions as her beautiful hands opened the card. She exaggerated a clearing of her voice for affect as she began reading aloud. Her eyes wide with anticipation and a giddy excitement in her tone, she verbalized his handwriting:

“ Amid the ambiance of a conspicuously mundane galaxy
Emerges a symphonic serenade of magnificent energy
Everyone looks for the cause of the change in chemistry
And to no avail, their eyes can't believe what they are seeing
So it travels about unacknowledged, to all that aren't worthy
Yet there she is, clear as day for me to see
And there is no mistaking this wonderful girls divinity
She emits a light that escapes not a morsel around her being
The sheer power in her nature ignites a flame in my heart to which I was unaware existed
I am forever indebted to the heavens, for ever sharing awareness of her untainted existence”

After she was finished with the poem she cupped her mouth with her hand and gasped. She gave him a distant stare for a minute. Once again tears started to emerge from her ducts. He didn't have any insight into what was wrong with her this time. But feeling wrong he was compelled to apologize.

"I'm sorry; the poem was too much wasn't it?" She placed her right hand on his chest and lightly passed the fingers of her other through the short hair on the side of his length. Then responded, "No the poem was perfect it was the most perfect thing I've ever heard. I'll cherish it forever, oh and I'm crying because I'm happy." She once again felt her affect on his physiology, when his calm disposition became frantic, his heart made a rapidly pulsing mound out of his chest that looked {like it was about} to erupt and his mouth open in order to accompany his body's unusually immediate need for air in large quantities.

Her body arranged so that her face, smiling and shedding seemingly incessant tears, rest not too far above his. The streams of liquid were now under no restraints and as they were seeping past her cheeks, began to hit his shirt, then his face, finally through the opening of his mouth and his lips. While he savored her eye-candy her finger honed in to wipe away droplets on his lower lip. During her attempt she was also successful in drafting some of his drool, for which she formed a special intention. First she declared to him what was on her finger. Then he apologized as if ruining the moment. After came her version of accepting his apology, which was putting the affected finger in her mouth while sucking, making a feral moan, and closing her eyes. Before they had a chance to re-open, a bolt would have thrust through his whole body for which the word aroused, would be an infelicitous disparagement.

When they regained eye-contact a moment later, they each saw the same trance that they felt in themselves mirrored in the other's eyes.

They had cultivated angst while tending to their exclusively human attributes, or lack there-of, in the previous nights. They knew that their minds had no place during this excursion; it could only get in the way now. They had unfinished business and only the employment of the most animalistic and primitive of instincts could get the job done.

He lifted his head a distance sufficient enough to reach her lips and she retreated the same measurement. He then lay back clenching his teeth in response to frustration. She, more eager to impose her affect on him than to conform to his strategy for undertaking their shared goals, moved down, subsequent to his rejection, in order to kiss him. When she reached his lips he cocked his head to the side, to avoid her, concealed in her too much pride to give chase to his lips, she reassumed the position. Now apparent that both were eager to be the leader to Nirvana. Neither regarded the painstaking plight of their lover while teasing them, nor had patience for their counterparts tease.

Switching tactics she puffed out her chest, knowing damn well her supple and perky breasts would make him forget what he thought he was doing, and then she switched her glimpses back and forth between her breasts and her eyes subtly enticing him. He placed his large hands on her smooth thighs and grasped, while giving a grunt. Then she liberated her body from her shirt and his eyes widely beamed at the surface of her arising nipples projecting beautifully out of the perfectly formed fleshy objects. She the raised her hand to twelve O' clock and brought it down harshly, surprising him with a very hard slap on the face. Now that she has attained his attention they both wasted no time in moving with one motion toward the other, and then locked lips.

First each pecking at the other's mouth, taking their precious time. They then grasped each other's heads pulling closer until their lips were fully engaged and faces swaying side to side in a passionate, yet exclusively lip kiss. Taking breaks that only escalated the chemistry, when one would, in a smooth and uninhibited fashion, denude the garments of the other. Their lower undergarments were still on though when in uncontained assertions of seduction, she giggled then wrapped her hand around his erection and the bit his lower lip very hard, after which he grabbed the length of her hair, and slowly but firmly in a reversal of dominance tipped her sideways and climbed on top of her. Then he extended his arms to reach her tiny wrists, taking them and holding them to the bed.

She would demonstrate how easily she could manage to influence him. By exaggerating an expression of surprise in his strength and submission to his masculinity while uttering a light pitch of excitement and fluttering her green eyes, she acknowledge his dominance over her body while she asserted her power in influencing how he used his.

She gave his unapplied attention, the reason to focus most of his energy, so much of which that when she stuck her tongue in his mouth, the captors of her wrists failed to receive further orders from their authority. She would apply her hands in massaging his scalp kissing and hypnotizing him. The motions of her tongue had a relaxing affect that the most potent of narcotics, could only dream of coveting.

Their affectionate activities were causing immense stress on their loins. Tending to this ordeal their extremities parlayed into panty and boxer shorts removal proceedings.

In denuding each other they were eloping on an adventure with unauthorized vows in the privacy of their own hearts. No one was around to chastise them for misbehaving. Religion ha taught them that anything that felt this good meant they were being perverse. Acting as if they were getting away with something, and still curiously unashamed.

His attention now diverted to taking pride in caressing her tender breasts, licking, sucking, and nibbling them to her delight. Her hands groping his stomach and chest again to her delight. He feeling her smooth firm buttocks, squeezing and entering her slowly at which time she let out a large gasp of relief to anticipation. Her legs wrapped around his torso in absorbing the increasing pace of his thrust. He felt moisture and an optimally smooth friction in her. Who knows what she felt, I'm a guy how should I know. But long story short they went on in that manner for a long, long, long time. Oh yeah and addressing what their orgasm......s.....were like its simple. Their climax wasn't a peak to reach and subsequently decent form, rather a priceless awakening which would stay with them forever.